When You Come Back

by Webb, Debra

  “I walked around the yard. Peeked into a few windows and I might have gone into the garage.” Did the man have cameras? I should have thought to look for a security system. Damn it!

  “You do understand that you’ve just admitted to having committed a crime?”

  I shrug. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Clearly. And what if he’d arrived home and found you on his property—in his garage?” Her voice grew louder with every word.

  “He didn’t. I was already in my car and down the road before we ran into each other.”

  “There are a couple more houses on that road, but he had to know you were at his house.”

  “I told him I was.” I stop again, check for oncoming traffic and make the right turn that will take me back into town. “I told him I wanted to apologize for not sharing with him what you and I are doing.”

  Letty kept interrupting me with demands but I finally got the story told. I left out the parts about the spray paint cans in his trash and the lip gloss. I will get to those troubling details when she calms down.

  “You’re lucky he isn’t at City Hall right now pressing charges.”

  “So I should meet you at City Hall?” In my self-serving opinion it’s time to move on.

  “I’m in the parking lot.”

  “Almost there,” I say.

  “See you in a minute then.”

  She ends the call without a goodbye and without telling me why we’ve been invited to the chief’s office. The ‘Welcome to Jackson Falls’ sign comes into view. I guess I’ll know what the summons is about soon enough. Maybe the chief wants to reiterate the mayor’s position on our unofficial investigation.

  I stop for a traffic light and my cell vibrates.

  Letty

  I read the text.

  Reporters have arrived.

  “Great.”

  I tug the lip gloss from my pocket and tuck it into the glove box. The short drive to City Hall is uneventful. I spot Letty’s Jeep and park in the slot next to it. I count six news vans. Reporters and their cameramen spill toward our vehicles before we can emerge.

  I meet Letty at the hood of the Prius. We huddle close and head for the entrance.

  “Sheriff Cotton, do you still stand by your father’s innocence?”

  “Emma! Emma!”

  The familiar voice of Lila Lawson cries out above the others. Letty and I keep going.

  “Emma, how do you feel about the reality that your best friend’s father murdered your sister?”

  I stall.

  Letty grabs me by the arm and ushers me forward.

  Two uniformed officers spill out of the entrance and usher the reporters back. I refrain from asking what took them so long. Inside, another officer ushers us past security and into a conference room filled mostly with faces I don’t recognize. On the wall are two televisions, one displays the crowd outside while another shows a discussion between what appears to be two reporters about the Shepherd and the Baldwin girls, their photos line the bottom of the screen. The sound is muted on both screens.

  “Sheriff Cotton, why don’t you and Ms. Graves have a seat and you can make the introductions?”

  This comes from an older man I recognize from the news as Chief Barker Claiborne.

  We pull out the only empty chairs around the long conference table and sit. Seated at the head of the table is Jackson Falls’ esteemed mayor, Heather, who requires no introduction so Letty skips her and gestures to my left as she starts calling off names. Special Agent Nile Jansen is with the Huntsville FBI office. Special Agents Jimmy Watwood and Paul Anderson from the Alabama Bureau of Investigation in Montgomery. Finally, Chief Deputy Liam O’Neal who’s sitting in for Letty while she’s on leave.

  I brace in preparation for the chief to lower the boom. There’s not a lot he can do to me unless he has learned I trespassed on Yarbrough’s property, but he can cause serious repercussions for Letty.

  “We wanted to include the two of you in this briefing,” Claiborne says, “before we make a statement to the press. We’ll rely on you to pass along the news to your mothers.”

  Letty and I exchange a look.

  “Has the medical examiner’s report come in?” Letty asks.

  The chief nods and passes what I presume is a copy down the table to Letty.

  My heart begins to pound, faster and faster. I can’t breathe, can’t swallow.

  “The ME has determined cause of death to be blunt force trauma to the head. This determination applies to both victims,” the chief explains.

  I stare blankly at the report. This is not news to me but with the ME’s report released I can no longer avoid telling Mother the rest of what I learned in that damned cave. I feel sick and relieved at the same time. I need to get this off my chest but I hate the idea of shifting it to hers.

  “Additionally.” The chief passes another report down the table. “We found traces of blood on the dog tags and we sent that for DNA analysis. The lab was generous and put our request at the front of the line.”

  Letty glances over the report, then places it on the table.

  Her face tells me the report is damning.

  “The blood on the dog tags found in that cave,” the chief goes on, “is a match to your father’s, Letty. I don’t see any way to avoid naming him as the killer. I just don’t see any way.”

  I look at my friend, keep my mouth clamped tight. This is her world. I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing but staying quiet is killing me.

  “How did the dog tags get into the cave?” Letty demands. “My mother took my father’s tags off his body after he was found dead. Eventually she hung them on the rearview mirror of her car. We all know,” she surveys those seated at the table, “that anyone could have taken those dog tags from her car and placed them in the cave.”

  A beat of silence expands in the room, pushing the oxygen out and making it hard to catch a breath. Not one person in the room endorses Letty’s assessment.

  “Except the coroner has no memory of those dog tags being on your father’s body,” the chief argues. “I have discussed this point with him this morning at your mother’s insistence and he says that if they weren’t in his report then they were not there.”

  “My mother is not lying.” Letty holds her ground. “She has no reason to lie. In twenty-five years most everyone in this town has believed that my father abducted Stacy and Natalie and killed them. What purpose would it serve for her to suddenly start refuting that claim now that there’s actual physical evidence?”

  Letty makes an excellent point. Though both Ginny and Letty have always believed as Helen and I do that James Cotton was innocent, once the case went cold, Ginny let it go. We all did. It was the only way to move on with our lives.

  I marvel at the idea. Have any of us really moved on or have we simply been muddling through? Stalled at a place where the past overlaps the present and moving forward is impossible.

  Those at the table look at each other and then at the files lying on the table in front of them. None have an answer for Letty’s question. None want to look at her or at me.

  “Excuse me.” I push back my chair and stand. “I just have to say something. My mother and I have waited twenty-five years to know what happened to my sister. The same goes for Delbert Yarbrough. What’s a few more weeks? Have you sifted through more of that cave floor? Where are the backpacks? Those were fabricated from mostly nylon, chances are they would still be in reasonably good condition. Where is my sister’s necklace? She wore that necklace every day of her life. She was wearing it that day. If you look in your case files you’ll find a photo of it.” I touch my throat. “The chain is silver and there are pink ballerina slippers.”

  None of those listening open their folders but that didn’t stop me. I’m on a roll and I intend to get this said.

  “You found none of those things in the Cotton home, on the property or in the car. And speaking of the car,” I’m flat out angry now, “Virginia
Cotton drove my mother to a doctor’s appointment in Birmingham that day. This was an all day trip in the Cotton’s only vehicle. How would you propose that James Cotton got the girls from Long Hollow Road to Indian Creek Road or to wherever he took them first?”

  “Ms. Graves, that was covered in the original investigation,” Claiborne reminds me. “Cotton could easily have kept the kids in the shed behind his home until he had the car in his possession. The next day even, when everyone else in this town was out there looking for those girls.”

  Letty stands next to me. She places her hand on my arm to assure me she understands I’ve done what I can but I am far from finished.

  “That’s right,” I allow. “He could have, except Natalie and Stacy were walking toward my house when they left the bus. The Cotton home was in the other direction. Why would they have turned around? The crash happened closer to my house than to Letty’s. It’s an illogical theory. But let’s say Mr. Cotton was taking one of his long walks that day while his daughter was at home alone and sick with the flu. He’d never left her home alone before, but let’s say that day he did. He may have been walking back toward his house when he ran into Natalie and Stacy. What did he do? Wrestle the two of them into submission and drag them back to his house? Two or more miles? If so, where are the injuries related to the struggle and the necessary restraints? The only fractures I noted on any of the bones were the ones from the trauma the medical examiner found. Why were no signs of a struggle found on Mr. Cotton? God knows the detectives interrogated and inspected him to their hearts’ content.”

  More of that goddamned silence is the only response.

  Letty’s hand tightens on my arm. “Let’s go.”

  “If he kept them in the shed for a time, where was the physical evidence? Why didn’t his wife or his daughter hear any sounds? Even a gagged hostage can make sounds.” I shrug. “Not a single hair was found. Both girls had long hair. That’s virtually impossible.”

  The chief holds up both hands. “I hear you and you make a number of valid points.”

  I look from one stony face to the next. “And here’s the kicker. The real game changer that you won’t find anywhere in those files” I point to the stacks on the table. “To be honest I only thought of it just this moment. I’m wondering why no one in twenty-five years has thought of it. A room full of trained investigators—much like the room full who investigated this same case all those years ago.” I shake my head. “James Cotton was out there in those woods with my mother and my father searching for us. All night and all day for days after that. Where were Natalie and Stacy then? Oh wait, in the shed right? Probably struggling to get loose from their restraints. And yet you found no evidence and Letty and her mother never heard a sound.”

  “Unless they were already dead,” the FBI agent says.

  I stare at him, want to slap his face. “True. But again I ask, where was the trace evidence? He bludgeons them to death and they stay overnight at least in that shed and then he carries their lifeless bodies in the trunk of his only vehicle to the drop location. He drags their limp bodies through miles of woods and still nothing was discovered. Wow, he was really good. Or your forensic folks were really bad.”

  I don’t wait for Letty to usher me to go, I walk away.

  That sickening silence follows us out of the room.

  Once out of the secure area and in the lobby she turns to face me. I brace for a rebuke. I’m sure my outburst did little to help her standing with those people.

  “Thank you.”

  Tears well in my eyes and I hate myself for not being strong enough to hold them back. “I’m just sorry I was too young to think of all those things twenty-five years ago. Apparently no one else did.”

  We hug and then we walk out into the throng of reporters. There are nearly a dozen now. This time Letty walks up to the woman who has been hounding me, probably her as well.

  “I’d like to make a statement.”

  She glances at me and I give her a nod of approval, not that she needs my approval. Letty squares her shoulders and holds her head high while she lays out all the holes in the theory that James Cotton abducted and murdered Natalie and Stacy. Amid the crowd of reporters I see Delbert Yarbrough. Worry nudges me. Will he start a protest against Letty now?

  Rather than attempt to shout her down, he meets my gaze and nods. The move is so slight I almost miss it but with that almost imperceptible acknowledgement I know he is in agreement.

  As much as I want to be relieved by his about face regarding Letty’s father and our unofficial investigation, the pink lip gloss in the glove box of my car won’t allow me to trust him. It’s foolish and likely nothing and still I can’t let it go.

  “That’s all I have to say.”

  Letty’s announcement is our cue to go.

  Uniforms hold back the crowd while we make our way to our respective vehicles.

  “I have to check on Mom,” Letty says. “I’ll meet you at the farm in an hour.”

  “See you there.”

  We drive away. Letty heads toward the post office and I drive toward the house on Tulip Lane. I definitely don’t want any of the reporters following me to the farm. I make the turn onto Tulip and I notice Yarbrough’s truck is tailing me. I pull to the curb and put the gearshift into Park. Maybe his change of heart wasn’t the full one-eighty I hoped for.

  As he approaches my car I lower the window. I peer up at him, don’t see any anger in his expression. Definitely a good thing.

  “The police will be releasing a statement,” I say in hopes of heading off any questions he might have. I’m not about to be the one to tell him how his daughter was bludgeoned to death. I flinch at the thought.

  “There’s something I should tell you, since you and Letty are trying to find the truth.”

  I’m suddenly holding my breath, hoping for the one clue that will make the difference.

  “A week or so before they disappeared, Stacy mentioned something about a teacher giving Natalie trouble.”

  A frown mars my face before I can stop it.

  “I know,” he says, reading my expression. “Everybody loved Natalie. I questioned Stacy about it but she wouldn’t say more. She did slip up and say he so I know it was a man. The day after the girls went missing I told this to Claiborne and he said he’d look into it. A week or so later,” he rubbed his head, “I can’t recall for sure the exact date, I asked him about it again. He said he’d checked it out and none of the teachers, male or female, had any idea what I was talking about. Natalie had perfect grades. She and Stacy were both model students.”

  I almost tell him that I’ve already heard from Ms. Larson there was an older guy in Natalie’s life. And Mallory Jacobs had mentioned one in her interview twenty-five years ago though she denied it when I asked her about it.

  Rather than say any of that, I hold back.

  “There’s nothing in any of the reports about you talking to the chief.” I decide it’s safe to tell him that much. “I read all the interviews with Natalie’s teachers and no one was asked about any sort of involvement beyond the classroom.”

  Yarbrough braces his hands on my window and leans closer. “I’m telling you, there was a teacher giving Natalie trouble. My Stacy would never have made up something like that. She loved Natalie like a sister. She was worried which tells me it was real.”

  I thank him and he walks back to his truck.

  My instincts start to hum. My dad always said the third time is the charm. I have three different references to an older man close to Natalie.

  Bottom line: we’re looking for a man who was close to Natalie and he’s probably a teacher.

  I rush to the farm.

  I need that school yearbook.

  23

  I pace the floors while I wait for Letty. I called Mother twice. Drove by the house. She wasn’t home and she didn’t answer her cell. Finally, out of desperation, I called Letty’s mom. She sounded strange. Of course she does. Letty has just shared th
e news about the dog tags. I asked Ginny if she had seen or spoken to Helen. She had not. Rather than leave her with something else to worry about, I pretend I’m looking for information on Yarbrough, which I am, really. I asked her if he had a history of violence? No. Heavy drinking? Not that she had ever witnessed. Odd behavior before this recent plunge into strangeness? Not at all. Social life? Church. There were numerous others. Her answers did nothing to assuage my certainty that something is off with him.

  The thud of a car door draws me to the front window.

  Letty.

  I unlock the door and open it. She climbs the stairs, weariness visible in her every move.

  “How’s your mom?” Dumb question. She is broken to pieces just as Helen is, just as Letty and I are.

  “She’s okay.”

  I nod. “I spoke to her for a minute. I couldn’t get in touch with Helen. I thought maybe she’d talked to her.”

  “She didn’t mention it.”

  “She said she hasn’t heard from her.” I close the door behind my friend and twist the lock. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Two somethings, actually.

  Letty drops into one of the dining chairs and pulls her knees to her chest. “Shoot.”

  I walk to the table, withdraw the lip gloss from my back pocket and place it on the table in front of her. “I found this on the steps going down to the basement at Delbert Yarbrough’s house.”

  Letty picks it up and turns it over and over between her fingers. “Okay.”

  “It isn’t old enough to be Stacy’s,” I state the obvious. “I asked your mom about Yarbrough. She said that he never had much of a social life beyond church before Stacy went missing and that he hasn’t had one at all since then as far as she knows. No rumors about him dating. No drinking, no trouble. Nothing until a few weeks ago when he started pushing the reopening of Natalie and Stacy’s case. So, if he has no social life, doesn’t date,” I point to the lip gloss, “where did this come from? It’s new. Dropped on those steps recently.”

  Letty inspects the tube again. “This only proves he had company and that company dropped her lip gloss.” She tosses the pink tube onto the table. “We’re going to need more than supposition and a random tube of lip gloss to make this relevant.”